Someone Like Me... Of Difference and Anguish

By Sanitee T'Chong

This long book (450pp) is about bullying. James’ basic thesis is that his early life is representative of many young people growing up; it is a period of growth in which they encounter many trials, tribulations and triumphs, in a society that is unable or unwilling to acknowledge these tribulations, and especially the sexuality of young people and the bullying they experience, and its effects. James was different, and he dared to be different. As a result, he was teased, bullied, marginalized, labeled strange, and experienced a lot of anguish. Thus, his life was often about finding someone like him, to avoid loneliness and friendlessness, to be understood.
James wrote this narrative diary to tell his story, without clear intent. And when one looks at it, it does seem to be all about him. But when you begin to look at what he experienced, suffered, it is in fact more about the society in which he lived; and although it is set in the 1950s to ‘70s, many of the conditions, thinking, social attitudes and so forth continue to exist, as they were, as some legacy of bygone days. Time has marched forward, but attitudes and behaviours have not.
James’ story, the story of his life, then, is not about him, but the effect that myopic social views have of individuals, not least of which is bullying in some form or other, to the effect, at the extreme, of suicide or murder. And if it is suicide as a result of bullying then it is murder....social murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Warrior Publishers
• Release date: Sep 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463235584

Sanitee T'Chong

Sanitee T'Chong is a mysterious, low profile academic...

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Prologue

Editor’s Introduction

By Sanitee T’Chong, Editor and Compiler

This has been a rather difficult book to put together from the diary notes of James, who presented the material in small sections and largely but not always in terms of chronology. The MS was originally penned by the writer, James, in 1969 (at age 16), but updated in 1975-1978 and again in 1980 (at age 27). Now, in 2016-19, some 46 years later, the ideas reflect how the world and attitudes were then, in the 1970s, and have since changed; for example, early on James states that homosexuality does not involve any healthy feelings, which today few people would subscribe to. And he relies heavily on Freudian notions by which he was perhaps unduly influenced at the young age of 16 or before, in part to rationalize his attitudes and behaviour. Clearly James was on a quest to understand himself and the world, and without a university education he caught onto and floundered with Freud, among others—and some 10 years before the gay liberation movement. Thus we see some rather immature, and some may say outdated and even corny notions presented by James, but which were all gist to the mill of growing up in the 1950s-1970s.

My task as compiler, editor and commentator but not author of this manuscript was to organize the material more coherently, without losing the essence and detail of James’ story, and to reflect and comment on how and why he says what he does. To this end I have merged some very small sections and chapters to create a better flow and chronology, and have inserted commentaries on James’ lack of modern, informed reflexivity and the issues his narrative presents. These comments are placed in square brackets […] in italics within the text, at appropriate places. (Unfortunately, not knowing what lay ahead, by merging sections or chapters affects what James himself refers to in much later chapters and sections. I will endeavour to address this issue as best I can).

The critical aspects of James’ story, of him growing up and the anguish he suffered, of his seeking just some one like him, take a considerable time to unravel, and thus poetic licence bids me to present a very brief synopsis of his life and tribulations.

James’ basic thesis is that his life to age 16 is representative of many young people growing up, then as now; it is a period of growth in which he/they encounter many trials, tribulations and triumphs, of society (which tends to get overly objectified in the narrative) that is unable or unwilling to acknowledge these tribulations, and especially the sexuality of young people—which is a very strong and persistent theme throughout the narrative.

James contends that he had a poor childhood, physically and financially, as he grew up in a very working-class family with 3 other siblings, and was emotionally deprived; that he found it difficult to make friends, and when he did have a special friend or two they invariably left, or taken away from him. In the end, at about age 15 he underwent a lot of emotional turmoil at the same time as falling in Love with his best friend, Barry. Together they engaged in some petty crimes, had a sexual relationship, and eventually in a fit of rage (and fear of losing Barry) James blackmailed a homosexual man with whom Barry was having a relationship. This brought his and Barry’s relationship to the attention of the authorities, the result of which was, in short, the forced termination of their relationship.

There is far more to this, and which leads up to this state, than such a brief provides. James felt he was downright ugly; he was teased and bullied by school mates and his siblings; he hated his home environment; he wanted to have money and be independent; and, oddly enough, he was intelligent and insightful, which caused him even more to reflect adversely on and be frustrated with his lot in life.

James’ self-perceived ugliness, along with his sexuality, loneliness, socio-economic status (class), and difference, is a very consistent and strong theme in the book, his life. And for good reason. The human face has such remarkable diversity, yet somehow, despite the variety, we all can assess beautiful and not so beautiful faces, or plain, evil, distorted, or whatever faces. Importantly, the human face exerts a powerful influence over interpersonal interactions, creating empathetic connections that limit or enhance our capacity to engage with another person, and indeed, in some cases, indeed too many cases, to engage in acts of cruelty against those whom we do not consider attractive—hence bullying and teasing and so on. I would suggest that the perception of a person’s face as unattractive enables one to detach it (the face) from the attribution of human personhood and so encourage a dismissal of its affective charge. In other words, an unattractive face, however defined, can be construed as less than human, as less than person; an ugly face dehumanizes the person and makes it easier to disregard his/her affectation, and for the persecutor to act against him/her. There are hundreds of examples in the literature and movies that play on this.

One need only think of the James Bond movie Moonraker in which Jaws finds a girl like himself; or in James’ experience, when a fellow prisoner calls him as looking like a drowned rat, and even James’ psychologist wrote that he was not prepossessive. Or on another occasion James went with his friend to an advertising agency, and the comment by the agent was not focused on his handsome friend, the client, but on James, saying the he, James, had an interesting if not unusual face. On yet another occasion James introduced his Asian friend to a 12-year old Australian, who had never before seen an Asian; his response was: What is that? Or the time that James went to a milk-bar/fastfood place, back in the ‘70s before McDonalds, and the waiter behind the counter, a middle-easterner James says, tried to overcharge him substantially; James had the distinct feeling that because he, James, looked unusual, ugly, and therefore stupid, he could be easily cheated. Many of us have the same attitude toward people with Downs syndrome, or the classic case that if someone is blind or their English is not good we raise our voice in speaking with them, as if some loudness will compensate for being blind or illiterate—there is a stupid association that if one then the other. Unattractive faces also fall into this category and response.

Oh yes, the occasional innocent comment we may all well encounter, but James encountered them all the time, spoken or unspoken, and hence he constantly wondered what people might be thinking of him, his face, and thus by extension, through his face of him—stupid? Thus it was that he developed the need, the imperative, to prove that his looks belied his ability. But it was a constant, consistent, battle. He had to overcome first impressions. So powerful is this idea that Michael Jackson underwent drastic plastic surgery to change his face—needlessly, objectively. But, what is objective?

And we know from marketing and other studies that good-looking people are offered more opportunities. Much later James came to realize that if he lived in the UK he would be more prepossessive as he fitted more closely English skeletal features, and subconsciously perhaps, he gravitated toward Asian studies and hence mingling with Asians whom, he felt, wrongly I would think, they had less discerning tastes of what was and was not attractive amongst Caucasians.

But in the meantime, James’ self perception for years and years was such that he hated looking in a mirror, and was bewildered by others whom he saw as beautiful but who thought of themselves as ugly, or at least average or not so beautiful. It’s small wonder then that he cared little about his clothing; apart from having no fashion sense, he possibly thought that attempting to make himself well-clothed would not have any positive effect on how people perceived him because of his face. (But James failed to realize that what one wears does affect how others treat you, how people respond to you {and surely he had experienced this countless times, and even went on clothes-buying sprees in recognition of the issue}, how people may or may not be comfortable with you, and in the least clothes may mitigate the worst of one’s other features).

In terms of personality and intelligence, he felt no one understood him, that he was different, and there was no way out. And in an attempt to control his situation, or the perception he felt others had of him, he longed for positions of dominance and inclusion, such as of the friends he did make, and his burning ambition to be a Police officer; that was not just an issue of control and authority, but also a position demanding respect, of wearing a uniform and hence identity and belonging. He had always felt excluded, by his siblings (of whom he was the youngest), his peers in and outside school, and that somehow he was different, perhaps even artistic. Ironically, his mother and his teachers encouraged that difference in terms of he being intelligent without realizing that, while all that was good, it also meant exclusion, isolation and social difference. Thus it’s not surprising that when he did have a bond with a male friend he felt and wanted it to be special, and often sexual, for he also felt from constant denigration that he was never worthy of a girl’s attraction (although there were the brief occasions he was proven wrong on this point, but which he himself could not see).

It was the break up with Barry that caused James to consult with some psychologists, as an order of the Court. These, too, did not understand him, he felt. It was in this state and at this time that James began to pen his autobiography, to try to work out what was wrong with him, how he could overcome what he perceived as a frustrating and intolerable situation; in short, how was he to deal with life.

As Voltaire states: Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us. But Voltaire, in this quote at least, gives no guidance on how to pass through them (quickly); how does one deal with tribulations if one has no friends, no supportive family—if in deed they are the very thorns—and no social support infrastructure?

This is an important point: how did James deal with stigma that arose from what he believed were other people’s perception of him physically and morally (ie. being homosexual). One way, much later, as noted above, was to mix with Asians (in Asia) in the false belief they would see and treat him differently. But before that, he tended to limit the occasions of stigma-raising by not engaging in social activities, limiting the occasions in which he would engage and the people he would deal with; hence he disliked crowds or parties or similar engagements, and associated with only a few friends who could be more trusted not to stigmatize him. And his strategies were somewhat justified: he recalls going to a party and having a bad time from his peers. Another strategy was to associate with younger boys, over whom he felt he had some control, partly because of their age and ignorance, and partly because they were somewhat dependent on him. This was somewhat similar to associating with Asians, who, in a poor country, hoped to use him, and who also culturally were prone not to disagree with him, but rather give ostensible respect. Thus what we see is that stigma-related shame is an important factor in networking decisions, and Catch-22, limiting that networking leads to greater isolation and hence anxiety, shame, stigma, and spiraling down to even greater isolation. Withdrawal from social networks and disassociation from social engagements are two key strategies that stigmatized people use to manage stigma-related shame, and shows how these strategies reduce networking activities. On the other hand, doing so also cuts off any prospects for support; and, the stigmatized person does not associate with others who also are stigmatized, as some form of affinity and support, because such affinity only adds to his/her own stigma, for what he, James, is trying to do, like others in like situation, is try to deny their own stigmata. Thus there is some truth in the saying that one chooses one’s friends, but one is given a family.

Yet, much later James became a taxi-driver, a job that requires a great deal of public appearance and engagement; and subsequently became a university lecturer, again requiring public display and engagement. So how could this come about?

I would suggest there is one thing in common among being a cab driver, lecturer, researching Asians, having younger peer friends, and his penchant for young boyfriends: power, control. Somehow James could put his stigma aside, or override it, perhaps compartmentalize his life and self-perceptions: being a cab driver put him in charge of the vehicle and destination, even to some extent over the brief engagement; each ride was an artificially constructed episode in which both passenger and driver were strangers (hence a common topic of conversation was the weather)—passengers were mere paying customers. Having younger friends and being a lecturer both gave him academic/intellectual power and status, as it did over Asians, added to which was social/cultural power and the provision of respect by Asians; and similarly for his younger boyfriends, in addition to their dependence on him. None of these social actors would openly challenge his role, status or superior intellectual and hence status position. Indeed, it was the occasional incident when it was challenged that highlights this factor. For instance, on one occasion when driving a cab, on a very busy night when taxis were scarce, he picked up some teen girls and one boy; they were happy, laughing, keen on getting to their destination. But the boy openly laughed at and denigrated James, referring to James a few times as funny looking, ie, as unattractive. The boy tried to get the girls to concur, but in fact they ignored him and berated him. But what really shut him up was James’ assertion of power in the moment, telling the kid in no uncertain terms that he would stop the car and throw them all out. The girls, concerned about getting to where they wanted to go, strongly reprimanded the boy. Another occasion was when James had a boyfriend of sorts, Dean, and along with Dean’s mates, all some 5-6 younger than James, he was liked and respected; then, by accident James and Dean etc encountered some of James’ former class mates, who queried why Dean was associating with James—of all people!

So, essentially James suffered many years of maleficence, ostracism, marginalization, denigration—essentially bullied. And so it is little wonder that James had so little self esteem and sought control over life and those with whom he chose to associate. He desperately sought others who were like him, seeking friendship, love, understanding, but those who were not stigmatized.

In terms of structure of this narrative of some 400 original pages, while Part 1 takes us to 1969, Part 2 carries on to 1971, and in particular with James’ infatuation and relationship with another school-boy friend, Larry. It is a fraught relationship of love, hate, jealousy, longing, bitterness. Part 2 ends with James at age 18.

Part 3 nevertheless continues on with that relationship, eventually being terminated by Larry in a rather dramatic turn of events. Part 3 also then takes up new events and yet another relationship, again fraught with love, hate, jealousy, manipulation. The whole book ends in 1975 when James turns 21, but with added reflections and summaries, and summaries of summaries.

It was with some reluctance that I took on this task of editing, and eventually extensively commenting on, this manuscript; but getting more into it I could see not just how adolescent minds work (to psychologize), but what effects structural features have, and how people respond to them. It left scope for comments and in some cases speculation, about several issues, not least of which we now understand and call bullying. James’ parents used to tell him to just ignore any teasing, to walk away; but we now know that that only encourages violence against the different and vulnerable, including children and women.

Remarkable, too, in this presentation of a chronicle of events, behaviours, thoughts and emotions is that I was able to interview James on several occasions as I word-processed the manuscript from its original typescript and paused at particular points to delve deeper and to clarify. It was remarkable that James could still vividly recall certain events, and the accompanying thoughts, rationale, and emotions of them (see, for example, the early part of 1971).

Thus while the narrative is based on his diary, my commentaries are reflections on that, aided by verbal elaboration some 40 years after their occurrence.

Sanitee T’Chong,

Editor and Compiler.

September 2019.

SYNOPSIS

By James

The Anguish [original title] depicts in its entirety the trials, tribulations and triumphs of Youth as seen and experienced representatively by one particular young man, James, the narrator. The facts and details are supported in their universality by similar incidents seen and related by him in regard to other youths. And now, in our modern day of the early 21st century, has a bearing on what we now call bullying.

Tending toward a psychological analysis of a Youthful expedition to adulthood, it begins in early childhood—a period which is necessary for background material and subconscious motivations—tracing the weird, perverted, blatant, confused and frustrated anguish of experience, discovery and growth.

The basic theme is the anguish of Youth exemplified by the characters’ adverse environmental factors—perversion, confusion, frustration, ignorance, poverty, hypocrisy, persecution, crime, violence, paranoia, snobbery, sexuality, and any other worldly normalities—leading to an intensive questioning of the essence of sexuality, normality, of life, and of purpose.

In all that has been said in recent decades of sexual discrimination, all of which had pertained only to women, nothing until now in The Anguish has seriously questioned oppression and sexual discrimination of children and particularly teenagers. James forthrightly declares that minors have sexual and personal needs which are blatantly denied them. The Conclusions and Recommendations summarily clarifies these assertions.

With such a theme this narrative is rather cynical.

The book is divided into 3 Parts:

The first Part concludes at James’ 16th birthday, a time when boys realize their growing manhood and are given (or take) comparative but still insufficient freedom; and previous to which, in this text, as often it is in reality, a monumental event or climax occurs, due to sheer immaturity.

Part 2 carries straight on, but displays, rather than immaturity, intellectual, moral and ethical confusion and questioning—remembering that there existed a Youth Revolution spurred by the Vietnam War and the American domestic scene.

Some aspects may tend to appear abnormal, but in admitting these abnormalities James attempts to show that they are not only real but secretive manifestations of Society.

Part 3 again carries straight on after the explosive climax and accompanying reawaking of Part 2, to display at the approximate age of 18 a growing sense of responsibility, understanding and kindness or benevolence, but still with a lingering confusion and frustration, aggravated by such episodes of cruelty by other youths and the neglect of the Establishment.

It shows Youth gaining more status in Its own eyes and that of Society’s; it shows a tendency, opposite to the enthusiastic radical and critical anti-Establishmentism of Parts 1 and 2, of slow assimilation into senior Establishment conformity, and a losing of some individuality, and a greater understanding of the need for some hypocritical conformity and security for the benefit, if not of Society, then for oneself. It shows an increasing awareness of Society’s (and perhaps one’s own) ability to ignore and inability to realistically cope with sin and misfits.

But at all stages, underlying all, is the basic questioning of the essence and desirability of sexuality and thereby normality.

Set in Sydney it nevertheless depicts a wide section of Youth in all Western cultures. It indicates that many problems of our cultures begin in Youth and the inability of Society to acknowledge and rectify Youth problems, consequently leading to a cynical and violent attitude in later life.

The Chapters of Part 1, except Chapters 12 and 13, contain the events of each year; from thence they tend to particularize on events rather than time periods. For the first 50 or so pages there is little action and only passing interest, but the remainder more than compensates.

Each Chapter is divided into sections to facilitate the narration of unrelated events and clarify the time factor.

The style is simple, straightforward, factual, almost analytical. This is because it is factual and, although written by a third-party, is written in the first-person.

In each Part there is approximately 50,000 words (totaling 150,000 words). The book concludes at James’ 21st birthday.

As for the obscenities I feel no disgust with them, either the words or descriptions. In the text James attempts to explain and justify his deeds; if he can do so honestly as a real part of life, then I feel justified in their insertion, in the purpose of their insertion. Unlike Portnoy’s Complaint (in which there is only repetition without purpose or pun), that in The Anguish aims to increase the reader’s awareness of personal development and consequences. They are facts of social-analytical importance, they are reality, not brought to light for the first time, but readily admitted. [James read a few chapters of Portnoy’s Complaint in the early 1970s and did not like or understand it or its literary significance; some 40 years later, with a proper education, he could now see a good deal of similarity with his own life and the book’s literary merit].

My authority to write upon such a subject as teenage normality and sexuality revolves about my own life experiences; the working with teenagers of middle-class status, and some of the more degenerate types such as male prostitutes and sharpies; working within and without organizations; and having a close knowledge of homosexuality.

Perhaps the world is not ready for The Anguish, but then, in my life-time, the world shall not be ready for anything which condemns its structure: The Anguish traces adolescent sexual and social development, and questions this development and the role itself each of us are to play-act according to Society’s dictum.

James.

January 1980 (Updated 2017).

WRITER’S NOTE (James)

This book is mainly factual, except for names, places, times, events, etc; and is not intended to be libelous. Any resemblance to some guy or chick living or late is purely bullshit and hard luck.

TOP

PART 1

INTRODUCTION

Dear Dr. Speck,

I realize that your occupation is a busy one, and under normal circumstances I would only take the time of one appointed interview—40 minutes—to ask your help and advice,

I have already seen a number of psychologists, but none as great as you; and in any case, I have always been too ashamed and embarrassed to reveal the whole truth to them.

This is why I am, in a life and death bid, writing to you. I hope you will be able to follow the development of my case and offer a solution. I suppose acknowledging and understanding my problem is half the battle won; but I am at my wit’s end—out of ammunition, so to speak—to win the second half: I don’t know the cause of my troubles; all I can do is relate events in chronological order; and not knowing the cause, I can not know the solution.

Please, Doctor, I beg of you, help me: my life depends upon it….

[This is James’ first plea for help; others he had seen seemed disinterested or unable to help; and he wished to be anonymous. Also notable is that James feels he is imposing on doctors, and they are only there for the money—40 minutes, and this in some sense he is unworthy of their grand time and expertise].

Chapter 1

(i)

This is the story of my life, in which both good and bad sides are revealed. It begins in 1953, and terminates in mid 1969, on my 16th birthday. It is difficult to imagine that all that follows could and would happen in 16 young years.

It is here, behind anonymity, that I will reveal all, despite its condemning, sadistic, vulgar, crude, perverted nature. But I must point out that I, like everyone one else, had my reasons (or excuses) or motives, even if they were neurotic.

My history is rather simple, except for the motives and explanations, until we reach the later stages of my life where moral, psychological, philosophical and legal matters occur; but I will try to relate it in simple terms. I would also like to point out that you may not have the same opinions and standards as I, especially where morality is concerned, and therefore you may fail to understand, not the facts, but the reasons for the facts.

One may say that this story is my diary of 16 years, including emotional feelings present during particular experiences. You may hate me or think that I was mentally sick when you read the things that I said and did; but you must always remember that I am an entirely different human being from you or anyone else: that I am unique; and that no one in this world possesses the same standards, instincts or dispositions which I possess; and no one has ever had the exact experiences, with my constitution, as I, which go to make up one’s life.

[Despite James claiming a human uniqueness, he also argues that his experiences and feelings have much in common with many others, and therefore certain facets can be generalized with the caveat that each person can experience the same things in different ways and within their own particular contexts.]

(ii)

Before we begin I would like to explain a number of terms and words which are used frequently, as your conception of their meaning may differ from mine, and if that be so, it would only serve to hinder your understanding of what I relate:

1. EXPERIENCE: This is an incident or train of incidents, or an idea or a thought of the Unconscious, which, in the latter case, is brought to the Conscious mind through present stimulus.

2. BEHAVIOUR: This is one’s mental and physical acts which are stimulated by instincts and reflexes. The stimuli, in turn, are a result of an experience(s), and are involved in the attainment of a goal, which is the aim or purpose of every experience.

3. LOVE:

This is an emotion and possibly an Instinct, meaning: to be grateful, to be drawn towards one by some unknown force, to admire, to respect, to delight in, to affect. There are two types:

1. Where one loves another of the opposite sex with instinctive intentions to pair and reproduce, as do husband and wife (or at least they are supposed to).

2. Where one loves one’s parents and relatives, although they may be of the same sex as oneself; but this love stems from the Instincts of Survival and Sex and Reproduction. But it is called love because Society has constituted it as such; (Western society does not seem to have another term for it, whereas Eastern societies perhaps are more precise yet more encompassing with the notion of filial piety); I denote this behaviour by the word Like.

But what of one’s attitude toward a friend, even of the same sex?

If a male associates with a female but does not Love her, his attitude is one of Like, stemming predominantly from the Gregarious Instinct. This may also refer to individuals of the same sex. But in particular cases, the latter instance of Like may become so ingrained, so intense, that it evolves into Love, as defined in #1 above, but without the sexual intent; it is based entirely on the Gregarious Instinct. It may also refer, in exceptional cases, to the association between relatives. However, I must point out that homosexuality does not involve any healthy feelings. Of course there are degrees of the various types of Love and Like. [James seems to be suggesting that homosexuality is all about sex, indeed perverted sex, and therefore abnormal; but he much later changes his attitude. But in the meantime this view lies at the bottom of his troubles, for he cognizes his engagement in homosexual activities and his love for certain boys, but denies his homosexuality].

Therefore, when I state that I Love Barry, I do not mean that I Love him as a husband and wife Love one another, and I am not abnormal or homosexual; but I mean that I am grateful, respectful, affective (or affectionate) and influential to him; I delight in being with him because of the things he says and does; and I am drawn towards him by some force, which would probably be out of compatibility; and he in turn reciprocates my feelings—my Love. However, there is probably some degree to which we are drawn to one another; I may Love him more than he Loves me, or vice-versa.

In conclusion, Love means: to be grateful, to admire, to respect, to delight in, to affect, to influence, to be compatible, to be interested in, to consider kindly, to devote (energy, time, money, physical and mental energy) to, to agree (where practical and legal), to help, advise, protect, and much, much more; this is Love. So I say, I Love Barry.

4. INTENTION:

This is not a motive but a mental act, thought or inclination, which is the result of a motive. An intention is positive, that is, it is a premeditation, and not an accident.

5. As I see it, there are two states of Mind: 1. The Unconscious, which is, at times, a very powerful influence of which one is not really aware, and is almost always influential, to some degree, over one’s behaviour; 2. The Conscious Mind, which is the ability to allow one to understand or realize what one is experiencing—subjectively or objectively—and why.

The Subconscious is merely the grey between the black and white.

6. COMPATIBILITY:

This is a natural ability for two or more persons to associate in good favour or on good terms.

7. HATE:

This is an Emotion, distinguishable from the Sentiment of Anger by its sustained period. It is possible that there are various degrees of Hate.

[Here James has picked up from his reading of psychology, particularly Freud and McDougall, various ideas that he uses in an attempt to work through his own understanding of himself; it is also, in part, an attempt to move toward justifying, mitigating or even excusing his own later behaviour. This is particularly so regarding homosexuality, toward which James holds a negative view which is not only reflective of the historical times, but also pre-empts his own view that he himself is not homosexual because he loves his boyfriends and the sex is purely physical, ie. is homoerotic, and further justified by the fact that he is too ugly and too young to have a girlfriend, and socially excluded and inept to enable his pursuit of girls.

His notion of the Unconscious, too, which often has a powerful influence over which he or others have little control, may also be an attempt to deny his own responsibility in some things].

(iii)

Following is a list of persons mentioned in this narrative; it may aid you in reading the context:

OM: My Old Man (father).

OW: My Old Woman (mother).

Sue: My sister, 4 years my senior.

Declan: My eldest brother, 3 years my senior.

Graeme: My elder brother, 2 years my senior.

Chris R: A school friend in primary school.

Garry: A school friend to me and Chris R. in primary school and to me in high school.

Barry: My best friend during 1968; one month my junior.

Larry: A school friend and associate from late 1969. It is difficult to say whether or not he is a friend, although we know one another very well; 6 months my junior; lives one-quarter of a mile from me.

Janet: Larry’s sister and friend to me since 1970, aged, 24.

Michael: Janet’s husband, age 28; Larry’s brother-in-law, and a friend to me since 1970.

Jeff: A casual friend to me since late 1967; Larry’s best friend; living half a mile from me.

Greg: A hypocritical, lying, deceitful bastard, since 1967; a friend of Larry’s, and a friend of mine; two days my senior. I hate him.

Greg M.: A casual school friend, and good friend to Larry.

Tony: A casual school friend, and good friend to Larry.

Steven: Another friendly, English, snobbish bastard associate at school and otherwise since early 1967; one year my junior.

Tony P.: A friend; my age.

John B.: A friend, and best friend to Tony P.

Mike.: A friend, since 1967.

Jim.: A friend of Mike’s, and part-time friend to me.

Bob.: A friend, since late 1966.

Geoff.: A casual friend who did a job with me.

Ron.: A friend since 1970.

John.: A friend since 1970, and also a friend to Ron; both of whom are my age.

Mark.: John’s brother; my best friend as from June 1972; three years my junior.

Hick.: Hick. A friend to Mark and eventually to me.

Ken.: A friend to Hick, and eventually to Mark and I.

Len: [James thinks this was a friend to Hick, Mark or Ken, of the same age and local].

Fred.: A Homosexual.

My name is James.

Other characters shall be introduced and explained as we proceed.

(iv)

I shall tell my story systematically through the years. The incidents related are those that I remember because of their significance in or influence upon my life. My thoughts and feelings will be those which were present at the time of particular instances, and also of reflection upon the past.

To understand the chronological significance of the remainder of this Chapter I must inform you that this section was written in March 1969, before I had seen Barry since our separation two months previously. This will become clear as we near the end of the book.

I have only two wishes at the moment, in 1969: I write this story of my life so as to include in it the event which drastically broke my friendship with Barry; to show to everyone, especially him, that I cannot be blamed for everything which took place. I wish to clear myself of any accusations made by Barry or anyone; to prove to him by the use of my police-statement that I did not intentionally dob him in or threaten him within the last few months, but instead that I tried to help him, in the latter case, and protect and cover for him in all matters. I have forgiven him for all he has done because I understand why he did behave as he did. I can only hope that he forgives me and that we can resume our friendship after he has understood my motives, and after the matter is legally terminated.

[James and Barry were best friends and lovers, until they were separated after being arrested for stealing a car and blackmailing Fred, a homosexual. This will be detailed much later].

I love Barry, my best and only friend. I have only one last wish, which is: to see him for ten minutes so that I may explain and tell him how much I am sorry, and to ask him to forgive me. This is not a request but a desire from within me; I wish that desire could be satisfied now. I forgive Barry and still Love him.

I can understand his feelings at the moment: I know what it is like to commit on offence, specially for the first time, and have to endure the agony and distress, both emotionally and legally, the humiliation and embarrassment which accompany discovery and apprehension; and not to be trusted again by anyone; to have to pay money and waste time to settle such matters—but these last two are insignificant compared to the emotional pain involved.

But one must decide for oneself as to whether or not to commit a criminal offence. But the biggest question that can be put is: WHY? Why does a person commit such an act? Robbery two-hundred years ago is understandable, but why is it necessary in a modern society today? I can answer for myself and Barry for I know, and more importantly understand, the motives behind our behaviour; but I am partly ignorant of the causes for these motives arising.

As to Barry’s motives, I can only make an intelligent guess; but aided with what knowledge I have of his character and manners, his history, social and home life and other facts, obtained during my association with him, this guess will be fairly accurate.

All this will be told to you in the following pages, and I only hope that I can make it clear enough for you to understand.

But I do not stop there—in relating just facts. I shall tell of my future plans. Or what I hope to do, in the near and distant future; and show you some of my standards, opinions, theories, beliefs and ideas on society, civilization, government, religion, sex, homosexuality, war……; and I will suggest ways of improving this world, although most, if any, will never become reality for a long time to come, if at all.

Finally, in conclusion to the explanations and introduction, I would like to remind you of the fact that you are to analyze me; I am not the doctor.

So, I leave it to you now. I trust you will bear with me until the end and not miss even one word and its meaning; but to read intelligently and, most important, with an open mind. It is a book of fact, fiction and emotion of my first and last sixteen years.

This book is dedicated to society, so at least one person might learn from it and change slightly his way of life, to influence others and help make this land a better place.

I also dedicate this book to Barry, my best friend, so as to prove to him that I was, and still am, his best friend.

I also dedicate this book to Truth, the greatest power on Earth, amongst the living and the dead; for Truth can hurt no-one but those who are false.

And lastly, I dedicate this book to Youth.

I now begin my autobiography, thanks to Barry………………….

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Chapter 2

(i)

1953. That was the year I was born. I, like everyone else, did not ask to be born, but, nevertheless, here I am; and I suppose I have to make the best of it.

As a law of Nature I am unable to remember anything about my birth or the first few years of life; maybe experiences in this period are very important—such as being neglected; I only wish I knew. As it is, I can only relate what I have been told:

Firstly, I was born two months premature and had little or no hair. Secondly, instead of crawling for a few months before walking, like most babies, I just got up and walked—with some aid. I might also add that we owned a ginger-coloured cat during this period and I used to grab it by the tail and whorl it around. Poor cat; it soon died, but I don’t remember it.

I was born at the local District Hospital. I was the youngest or second youngest of a possible five children—three or four boys and a girl. As I have been told, one of my brothers, David (one year my junior), died at a very early age; to me, the cause of his death, if he ever did exist, is unknown. I do not remember him; but I often wonder what it would be like to have a younger brother. Maybe it’s just as well he did die; not only would he be ashamed of me, but also he would have to suffer at least normal life in this stinking world.

[When James was in his thirties he was told by his mother that David had not died, but had been adopted out, because James’ father had told his mother that if she brought another brat home he would leave the family].

My elder brother, Graeme, was an asthmatic. I don’t pity him because I know other people who suffer from the same ailment and who live an almost normal live; but it was because of his condition that I, Declan and Sue were often neglected by our parents; neglected in the sense that Graeme was given more attention than us. My mother also suffered from asthma. What strikes me as extraordinary is the inability of Science to cure this nauseating and inconvenient sickness—and also cancer, not to mention the common bloody cold! But then, I expect too much.

There was nothing wrong physically with the remainder of the family (I use the word family in its physical sense, to represent a physical unit), except my father, who had a big nose which I inherited, a nose like that which Alex Portnoy describes of himself. From the war a defect resulted in my father’s eye; he also contracted malaria, which occasionally reoccurred, whilst a prisoner of war, and has been quite thin ever since.

[This opening is indeed very negative, reflective of James’ very strong negativity toward life, family, and society.]

(ii)

As one reads the following characters, one may not believe that such things occur in this land of freedom and plenty, Australia. Oh yes! It’s Australia; why not? more specifically, Sydney, NSW. And even more specific is the fact that I was born, bred and died in a northern, typical suburb. No. It’s not the USA, a remote place that you’ve never seen, even on TV: a place where the queer is queer but the normal thing. This is your county: Australia. Australia!

God save Australia fair;

Long live our men of rare;

God save our Land;

United in one band,

Together we stand;

Long may we live in peace;

God save this Land.

Happy and glorious;

It’s our countree:

Fertile, victorious;

Girted by sea.

Devoted to toil;

Pledge to Peace;

Rich in soil;

Australia! Never cease!

Yes, what is related within has happened, could happen, is happening in our beautiful Sydney-town; in a middle-class, residential, typical, snobbish, polluted, northern-beach suburb. Wake up Australia—gullible Aussies; face some reality! Don’t be a politician.

Sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that; it doesn’t do any good, anyway . . . . .does it?

(iii)

Where I grew up for twelve and half years is a peculiar place. I can’t tell you exactly where. Unfortunately, although the location of my house and the immediate surroundings are very significant, I cannot narrate to you a full description, for fear of discovery.

Peculiar it was: over two-hundred acres of Crown land covered mostly by useless scrub; relatively isolated from the suburb proper. This isolation, I believe, is a major contribution to my present troubles.

But enough of that for the moment; let us return to the immediate years of 1953-plus.

My elder brother went into hospital at the approximate age of five, to have part of one lung removed because of his asthma. We four children were always rather thin; and myself being tall did not aid my appearance. I had skinny arms and legs and knobby knees, pale skin, no chest, narrow face, big nose….

As to the question of loving my parents, I can only speak for myself; the answer is NO—I hate them. My parents disciplined me, and the others, in a normal way; and fed and clothed and sheltered us as they should, morally and legally. But they never took a great deal of interest in us. My father was more indifferent than kind. My mother was more concerned about Graeme and often spoilt him, just like any other mother might spoil her child. They did not show their love to me at the times I most needed it. I don’t mean when I just hurt my self; but when I was depressed or in such a mood as to need all the love I could get, from everyone.

If I, like so many other children, had received this love when we wanted or needed it, we might never have come in contact with our present troubles.

I assume they loved me, but they never really proved it.

I suppose I’m physically grateful, but feel no obligation to repay them.

They brought me into this world, they had an obligation: the obligation to be responsible for my welfare until I can fend for my self, which, by law, is 21 years. I have no obligation to them, only to my children. And what material welfare I have received from my oldies will not compensate for the lack of their affection.

Another point to mention is the fact that my oldies often quarreled, quite violently at times, which terrified me when I was young. There were many reasons—or more accurately, excuses—for these arguments; many, if not all, were caused by trivial things. I have learnt to laugh at them now; I just don’t care anymore; I only wish they would shut up (and drop dead) so that I can work in peace.

One major factor was, as is common, alcohol. As far back as I can remember, my father has sat down at night in front of the TV (addict box), not paying any particular attention to it, and has drank glass after glass, bottle after bottle, of beer; and smoked cigarette after cigarette; and, in my opinion, did so while in a rigid, forward-slouching position.

He never really got pissed, although he would go through three or four bottles in a few hours; it didn’t make him insensible, just illogical. But because he ate so little and drank so much, he often become cranky, tipsy or annoyed which resulted in arguments small and trivial—although now and again one big donnybrook would occur. Also, I might said, my father is not at all sociable; this is obviously indicated by the fact that he very seldom drank in a pub, but instead brought his bottled grog home.

My attitude to beer and alcohol in general is that I can take it or leave it; but really I think that these 5pm-10pm all-night-groggers are neurotic hypocrites.

My mother, on the other hand, rarely drank and didn’t smoke. She was rather a lonely and passive woman and had always been cast aside in her earlier life—like so many innocent people. She was born in Australia, of Irish parentage; my father is English.

I know very little—and what I do know is not relevant—about their earlier life and marriage; and I don’t really care to know. But just for the record it is simply this: my father joined the army at age of fifteen (for WW2—a senseless war, like all wars, bloody senseless:

We do not condemn those that grow old,

We are young but understand;

We condemn those who grow bold,

Those greedy for more land!

After release from a POW camp he came to Australia, married, and his wife (not my mother) died; he then married my mother.

My mother’s parents died when she was young, and she was separated from her brothers and sisters and brought-up by religious, strict, Victorian, old ladies (quacks).

There is one incident which I vividly remember and, although out of chronological order, should be mentioned now: when I was five to eight years old my oldies had a donnybrook during which my mother said the following (or similar) words: if. . . . . . . . . . I’ll tell James the truth about him. . . . . ! What this means I can only guess. Possibly it could mean that I’m either an adopted child or am the only child of my mother, my siblings being children from my father’s first marriage. Frankly I don’t want to know; what ever the meaning of these words, I still hate my bloody oldies!

[Again, a very negative recollection of and attitude toward James’ family and parents, and life and society, at such an early age. That both his father and mother seemed unsociable if not reclusive might suggest why James himself became so. His father had few if any friends, and similarly his mother; his father did not take kindly to her having friends.

For the record, James is clearly a full sib to his brothers and sister; both he and his sister look like one another, and take on clear features from their father. James now seems to think that his mother’s reference to telling him something was probably along the lines that James had a younger brother, adopted out, and perhaps his father had also wanted to adopt-out James].

(iv)

Let us now return to my place of childhood, because its isolated character is very relevant.

As I said before, it was Crown land, mostly bush: a 200 acre playground.

Twelve families lived on the property; it was a quiet and uncomplicated life. Our house, which we rented very cheaply per month, was made from the timber of old sailing ships; it was 113 years old in 1968. It had many originals: doors, a copper, [old sash] windows, marble fire places, and a thirty-foot hallway.

We had a large front and back yard with a few large paddocks close-by; we had our own private beach and a magnificent view. It was only on leaving that which had been my home for over 12 years that I came to appreciate everything there; I often wish I was 10 years old again.

My OM’s job was similar to what everyone did: a general labourer-handyman. The foreman was old and retired about 1958.

My OM never got on well with the rest of the people, as well as they did with each other; but he stayed there for fifteen years. There was a family feud between our family and another, which began when I was about three, and lasted for five years; the cause was trivial and insignificant. My siblings and I finally made friends with that family, mainly Ned and Jean—the two children about my age.

There are only a few more incidents to relate: I was slightly anaemic; my brother dropped a brick on my sister’s head—nothing serious; and, significantly, all the kids used to tease me—about my nose and being skinny—when they were in that type of mood. It was only childhood mockery, but probably because of my character or what-not, it had an effect on me which may have persisted to today. All through my life I have been teased excessively, felt rejected, and have been lonely: some people never learn and grow up.

There was also the time when I cut my ear and went into hospital for a few days—something I don’t remember; and also, one day while eating fish for tea, I choked on a bone and nearly died.

That’s about all for the period. The usual things of childhood happened, I suppose; only, I was hindered in growing up, in a social or mental way, by the constant persecution—that’s where all the trouble started: I tried to ignore unfriendliness and loneliness—but the Unconscious mind can’t.

[Again James notes the thematic physical and social isolation of his childhood—despite the occasional good times he fondly recalls, such as below—that persisted into his teens through his family and school, as well as drawing on the effect his environment may have had on his Unconscious mind, as if to pre-empt reasons for his later behaviour].

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Chapter 3

(i)

1957-1959. Age. 3-6

I enrolled in kindergarten at the local public school, situated two miles from home. There’s not much to say about the first year here, except for one incident which I vividly remember:

It was one afternoon on the way home from school by private bus, that I jumped off the back step as the bus came to a gradual halt. I only did it because everyone else did it. However, the only injuries I sustained were a bruised arm, a hurt pride, and a cranky bus-driver.

But we used to have good fun on the busses: sitting near the driver and giving hand-signals with the manual trafficator. Too bad I had to grow up.

(ii)

Maybe a cause of my present attitude and problems is the neglect with which I had to endure in my earlier years. In late ’56 and early ’57 my mother worked as a typist and hired an old lady to look after me. She was friendly enough, I suppose—for I vaguely remember her; but maybe she was too old to take a real interest in me, as my mother should have done. I don’t know, it could be a cause, who knows?

I might also mention here our cats. About this time my sister brought home a black kitten—the first I ever remember. Ever since then we have had at least one family cat. They’re a bloody nuisance at times, but I still love them.

There is one other matter to relate: my brothers, two friends and myself used to go under our house with my sister and her girlfriend, where we would all show one another our genitals. I suppose it was only a natural part of growing up. But was this a very early exposure to sex?

(iii)

To me, 1958 and the previous year are confusing. As I can determine, having started kindergarten in late 1957, at the age of four at least, I continued in kindergarten the following year.

It was in ’58 that I first ran into trouble. I was doing well in conduct and academically. But I found out that my brothers had been wagging school, so I decided to go with them. We truanted for almost a week then began shop-lifting, of cigarettes mostly.

On one of these occasions we were caught acting suspiciously in a large variety store; and on being questioned by the manager said that we were waiting for our mother. He gave us a note to give to her, and told us to return later in the day accompanied by our mother. Instead, we went down to the beach, tore-up, burnt and buried the note, making sure that all evidence of it had been concealed. It was all very melodramatic at the time. We then proceeded to go rock-climbing at one of the coves, where I slipped and cut my hand on the oysters; I did not seek any medical attention. In the afternoon we were picked up by a copper. We told him that we—all three—had to get my bag which was hidden in the rocks, in an attempt to escape; but this copper was not as dumb as most: he sent Declan to get the bag while Graeme and I were held. We were taken to the cop-shop and then to the hospital—where my mother worked as a typist—to care for my wound. We were then taken home and, of course, scolded.

But, about a week later, we were at it again. On one of these occasions we stole a tin of money from the counter of a fish-shop: contents being fifteen shillings. We went to Sydney on the Ferry and met an older boy who was also truanting. But we did not have enough money to go through the turn stiles, so I was ordered to volunteer to sneak through; this failed and we ended up in the cop-shop. You can guess the rest. At least it was the last time for me—for a while, anyway.

Because we couldn’t be trusted anymore, we had to report to the Headmaster on arrival at school each day and stand outside his office until 9 am.

(iv)

I was often teased during the year, and although it was natural for children, it was to result, in later years, in an inferiority complex.

Nothing important other than that already cited occurred during the year.

(v)

By 1959 I had graduated from kindergarten to transition level.

Nothing worth mentioning occurred during this year, except maybe, that I remember going to a day-nursery during the holidays; and that my sister bruised my foot badly by dropping a garden seat on it. That’s all.

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Chapter 4

(i)

1960. Age: 6-plus

Looking back now, it seems that I was growing up quickly. At the time I was living each day as it came and had only vague wishes and dreams as children have. I wish now that I could again live like a child; it's a funny thing: when I was a kid all the oldies wished they were kids again and I wished I was an adult; really, at the moment, I wish I could take the pleasantries and advantages of childhood, yet live like an adult; I suppose only rich people can get near that, though.

Anyway, I graduated to 1st Class. I did well academically and often won small prizes in Scripture classes.

(ii)

It was in this year, or the next (I don't correctly remember) that I made my First Holy Communion. (My mother is a Roman Catholic, my father a Protestant—although he claims to be an atheist. I was christened a Catholic, although I am now agnostic in belief). I made the Communion and sometimes went to Church—reluctantly—only because at this young age I was forced to believe in God and go to Church. That's the trouble with Religion: religious fanatics indoctrinate young minds, incapable of reasoning and choice, with the fact that God exists; and if you don't believe you get into serious trouble.

Seldom did we go to Church, except my sister. To me it's a lot of baloney, a hoax, a crutch; it was so corny, so square or conservative. And the existence of a god hadn't even been proven. Jesus Christ probably only existed as a philosopher and became so famous because of the way he died and the way his body disappeared from the tomb; and also because of his philosophy, which was so different and practical or encouraging—only now the Bible and the modern Church has corrupted his philosophy.

Often the question arises as to whether there is indeed a Heavenly God. There are countless people in this world today who do believe that an almighty power exists, and who created this world—and for that matter, the Universe—and who guides us, His children, in everything we do. Massive organizations have been founded to preach the words of this God; words, I must admit, of which most are good; and to pass on the story of how and why His Son, Jesus, came to Earth more than nineteen hundred years ago. All who claim to be Christians are suppose to believe in this almighty God and His power, and believe in eternal life after mortal death. Though, it was not long ago, a little more than one hundred years, that a Christian and true and faithful believer of God innocently formulated a theory which, at the time—and for quite some time after—shocked the world.

Charles Darwin, through the course of his studies around the world,